Smack dab in the middle of Knockturn Alley loomed Borgin and Burkes, tall, dark, and foreboding. The rusted, loose shingles on the roof gave the impression of a blast-ended skrewt sitting atop a craggy tower. Aileen looked up at it before opening the door and stepping in. The gray sky matched her dreary mood perfectly.

She’d only been in Borgin and Burkes a few times before to identify dark items from her travels that other scholars couldn’t, or wouldn’t, touch. The shop looked the same, with the dim lighting, dirty windows, and moldy, dank smell in the air. As Aileen strode to the counter, she passed wares that seemed to be permanent fixtures of the shop: shrunken heads hung from the ceiling beams, grimacing masks lined the walls, a curved dagger gleamed in a glass case, and a strange assortment of rat tails and fingernails rested menacingly on a shelf. Aileen repressed a shudder and ignored the mask, which had just winked and leered at her.

“Mr. Borgin,” she greeted the owner of the shop briskly, hoping to purchase what she needed and get out of here as fast as possible.

“Ms. Reid,” the man replied in his usual slimy fashion, slowly standing up from the stool off to the side. He flashed his teeth in a smile and leaned against the counter, eyes already calculating the profit from this meeting. Aileen struggled to hide her disgust as she caught a whiff of something foul and realized it was his unwashed hair.

“What do you have to show me today?” he gestured with his palms open, an unpleasant smirk on his face. “A Japanese kenkagoma? An Indian Sari? More runes?” He chuckled, listing items that she’d brought before. They didn’t sound dangerous, but the kenkagoma had a habit of killing its competitors and the Sari had strangled five women before being destroyed. The runes were another story. Aileen shook her head.

“I hear you’ve just returned from Egypt,” Borgin lowered his voice and his smile grew wider. “That must have been an exciting trip, full of fascinating finds…” He raised his eyebrows, clearly hoping to see some of the things she’d brought back. Not yet, Aileen thought.

“Actually I’m looking to purchase something,” she said. A flicker of surprise crossed Borgin’s face, but he quickly recovered. She’d never bought anything before, only paying him to help her identify a few things.

“I hear,” she began, mimicking his tone from earlier. “You have a device that unlocks hidden compartments. Miniscule in size, unaffected by strong enchantments. I’d like to take a look at it, please.” She watched his reaction carefully while trying not to give anything away on her face, like playing a game of wizard’s poker. Aileen had discovered a tiny compartment in the sundial she’d brought back from Egypt, but all the usual spells she’d attempted (and some unusual ones) had backfired or done nothing. So, after weeks of frustration, she’d decided to visit her last resort: the oily Mr. Borgin.

It was hard to keep Simon out of his former stomping grounds. It was easy to slip in and out of Knockturn Alley for him. When he went there it was like coming home, even if he no longer had to dwell among the other residents and shops. There was a peace he found there that he could not obtain in the more secure of places. The ministry still put fear in him more than Knockturn Alley and it was due to years of mistreatment for him and his kind. Selfishly however he knows it was mostly due to the treatment of him.

Hands shoved into his pockets, the old worn leather gloves kept him from feeling any chill. Granted the weather hadn't turned to the worse yet, but he still took some precautions. Not to mention if he happened to touch silver accidentally with is fingers he wouldn't have the searing pain of a silver burn to deal with. There were plenty of times when he glanced off the side of an object with the demon metal within it and he had the marks to prove it, Simon avoided that sort of pain any way he could.

Taking a walk to get some supplies and to see what was shaking up around the Alley, Simon made his way to Borgin and Burkes. There he could catch up on the goings on of the people he formerly lived around as well as snoop about for anything that might catch his eye. Simon was trying to go straight and keep his nose clean but the temptation was always there lingering in the back of his mind. The money had been good even for petty crimes and just basic artifact smuggling. Now he had to deal with minimal wage for maximum work, but that was always the case with civil service careers.

Now with him back with the ministry Simon could stick it to his family once more. The delicious chance to irritate them more and now in the view of the public. Their son, the black sheep Reid to become outed as a voice for Werewolf kind and legislation. It was that dark burning revenge that kept him from going back, he could get back at his creators so much better by living well and in the eye of 'Polite Society'.

Simon had entered the shop and was looking about when his ears caught a familiar sound. The wretched voice that haunted nightmares as a child and made his blood turn cold as a teenager, his beloved older sister. He almost didn't believe his own ears when he caught the sound however the ears of a werewolf never lied. Inching closer a dark smirk crossed his face as he moved quietly behind her. Simon waited patiently for his sister to finish speaking to the clerk and leaning against a shelf cocked his head to the side, "Lost sister dear, What would father think of his perfect little girl in such a seedy environment?"

Muggles or time restraints.  Cinaed wasn't sure which he despised more.  Muggles were pathetic, weak and useless but they did contain some potential for entertainment value.  There was no entertainment value in time restraints.  But, as he was due back at the Bridge House for curfew check before sundown.  A time restraint that irked Cinaed to no end and not just because it required him to return to the Bridge house. 

Managing the pub was a task that was easily delegated to others.  It had required the hiring of reasonably reliable help but it did mean that any business related errands had to be conducted on a schedule. 

Cinaed stepped out of Crinchley's into the shadows of Knockturn Alley and slipped the jar of fresh chimera blood into his cloak pocket before propping a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.  After shifting his cloak over his shoulders, he started out for the weathered, wooden french doors of the Black Chimaera.  Halfway down the Alley Cinaed stopped, his lips thinning in a shallow grin around his cigarette and his eyebrow lifting as he watched a curious woman step into Borgin and Burkes. 

He couldn't remember the woman's name but he easily remembered her appearance.  Like an egret amongst a flock of vultures, this woman had stood out in Crinchley's for her properness and clean attractiveness.  Hers wasn't the usual sort one saw casually passing the time down Knockturn Alley. But, generally, as with Persephone Grosvenor, when they did venture down the dark alley, it was usually in vigilant search of something dark and mischievous. 

That potential alone was enough to intrigue Cinaed.  And, when it came in a fine, blond package - well that only made it better.

Giving the rabbit's foot on his leather robes a straightening brush with his fingers, Cinaed quietly slipped through the door of Borgin's, lingering towards the back of the shop to eavesdrop on what he could of the conversation.  Borgin glanced up from his conversation but, after a dismissive shake of his head from Cinaed, the man turned back to the woman's business.

Egypt.  Devices to unlock hidden compartments.  Those words, alone, were enough to prove rewarding to Cinaed's initial curiosity.  What, exactly, was this seemingly straight-edged woman up to?  But, the woman's transaction was interrupted by another puny looking bloke.  Just when Cinaed thought this blond couldn't get more intriguing, the fellow (brother, apparently) identified her as a father's perfect little girl.  Daddy's perfect little girl who was, clearly, seeking to stretch her wings. 

"Sometimes, people don't want to be confined to the shackles of family-induced roles.  We all want to live free a little."  Cinaed stepped up to the counter next to the woman, casually leaning against the counter as he surveyed the two.  "Excuse my forwardness, but the familial resemblance is lost on me."

The dark, amused voice that sounded behind her made her jump a bit. She’d heard the door open- twice, actually- but she hadn’t realized someone was standing so close. That voice. She bristled instantly. It could only belong to one person, and that was one person she didn’t want meddling in her business.

She spared him a glance, and then fixed her gaze ahead as Borgin retreated into the backroom for the item she’d requested.

“Simon,” she said his name with a touch of distaste, as if she’d found a fly in her tea. “I thought you’d given up your old haunts. New job, back at the Ministry, even. Must bring up memories.”

Her tone was cold and there was no trace of humor, mocking or otherwise, in her voice. Aileen didn’t even want to look at him, unwilling to betray her anger. There were other emotions, too, but the anger was the easiest to handle, to repress or turn into something else. She’d heard all about his job at the Ministry as Gertrudis’s lapdog, standing up for werewolf rights. When a crewmate had foolishly asked her if she had any relation to Simon Reid, she’d nearly bitten his head off and it had never been mentioned again. Now that she was face to face with her brother, she had to think about him, to admit how he was dragging their name through the muck just to make some spectacle of himself. Aileen didn’t really believe his job would last, but it was still infuriating. Already, he seemed to be back to his old habits, lurking in Knockturn Alley and poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

To her surprise, another familiar figure leaned against the counter. The large, imposing man had even come to her rescue before. She smiled faintly at his comment.

It was true. She and her brother looked almost nothing alike. He looked like the rough and tumble sort, while she looked more elegant and stately. Yet they shared the same eyes. His was an icy blue and hers were darker, but their eyes had a similar shape and even narrowed in the same way when annoyed. It irked her, the very few times she thought about it.

“Cináed, good to see you again. I do wonder how we’re related, sometimes,” she said dryly and glanced at Simon, hoping he’d take his leave. Aileen did not want him hovering over the device she’d asked about or knowing anything at all about what she was trying to do. He might even go out of his way to mess things up for her.

Aileen tried to put that out of her mind and focused on Cin. “Have you made any recent trips to Crinchley’s? Helped anyone else decipher her handwriting?” She teased, smiling at him.

Looking at the man who stepped up to him before going back at his flesh and blood, Simon drank in the figure of who he was addressing. The man was definitely odd looking, then again Simon didn't really fall under the 'normal' category himself. There was only one thing troubling him about the man, he looked familiar and yet Simon failed to place him.When it was mentioned that the other man couldn't see the familial resemblance  he let out a bark-like-half laugh "Thank Merlin for the little blessings," he said dryly.

They never got along before, and he highly doubted that would change as they aged. Aileen was always the golden child, the perfect little girl a 'true' Reid child. His brother was no better luckily for Simon he had to deal with that arse far even less than his charming sister. Their brother used to torture Simon growing up, picking on him mercilessly at home and bringing it with them to Hogwarts. Simon only found any sort of peace when both of the mutant elder siblings had left his space. Once free of them Simon started to blossom into his own person.

A family like the Reid's only needed two good children. When they had the third and then the fourth they were completely appalled by how they turned out. To think it wasn't bad enough their youngest was a Squib but their other son was now a Werewolf. Of all the things to become, Simon was pretty sure he was their worst nightmare. Hence why he of course had to make the biggest ruckus he could. When he himself is questioned about his lineage he is more embarrassed by them

Tugging on his long black robes, Simon leaned himself a little firmer on the shelf and just smirked at her. Was Aileen truly trying to avoid his gaze? Perhaps their last meeting left a bad taste in her mouth.

Good. That was what he wanted. This time however he approached her, whereas last time she had basically tried to corral him in an alley way. Her lack of emotion then had been the trigger for him to say some terrible things, he didn't regret them though. Simon was anything if not fully honest when he spoke to her about his disdain for their family as well as everything they stand for.

"The Alley calls to me. Besides, not everything done here is with ill intent... A job is a job, which leads me to wonder how you found your way down to these neck of the woods. Last I knew you didn't feel compelled to wander where the underlings tend to dwell, why the change of heart sister dear?" Simon felt nosey for the first time in years within regards to what business his sister had in Knockturn Alley.

Simon.  Ministry.  Those had been the two pieces of information that seemed to stand out from the conversation in Cinaed's mind.  Not because the shrimp's name rang any bells.  But, because it provided Cinaed with a name.  It was the news that this fellow worked for the Ministry that really sparked Cinaed's interest.  One might assume, given the fellow's diminutive size that it was unlikely he was an Auror but - well - when one considered who was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that wasn't always a safe assumption. 

"What do you do for the Ministry?"  Cinaed asked, curiously, his gaze flickering briefly to Aileen, hoping she'd offer an answer even if Simon elected not to. 

Cinaed returned Aileen's small smile with a charming smile of his own before looking from the sister to the brother once more.  The two were making no efforts to hide the animosity between them; Aileen even seemed unwilling to look in Simon's direction.  A situation that really, could only prove to help Cinaed. 

"Indeed," Cinaed replied.  "I can see that.  Though," Cinaed couldn't resist adding, grinning at Simon.  "The blessing's more hers than yours."  Cinaed replied, turning his attention fully back to Aileen.  He found little need to acknowledge the fellow's presence any further.  Other than to win himself more points.  "It is good to see you again as well." 

Cinaed shook his head, pursing his lips as if in thought.  "As I'm sure you figured, I'm one of the Crinchley's regular patrons.  It's conveniently located to my own business so I see the ugly old hag more frequently than my eyes would like.  But, I'm afraid, I've found little reason to help any others since you, my dear," he smirked.  "The shop has fallen back to its usual dusty darkness." 

"But, I see the Alley has drawn you back in once more.  Looking to open locked compartments?  I couldn't help but overhear."  The brother, it seemed, was inquiring after the same thing. 

Aileen’s mouth curved into a mocking smile when Cináed asked what Simon did for a living.

“Oh, he works for werewolf rights, don’t you, Simon? Such a noble cause,” she drawled. If it made him uncomfortable, or if he expected her not to say anything, that was his own fault. He should have thought about it before putting his face in the spotlight.

Her smile grew more amused when Cináed noted that the blessing was more hers than her brother’s, and then answered her question about Crinchley’s with his usual charm and confidence. He made a good impression, certainly, even though the man desperately needed a shave. Maybe some shears. What was it with Knockturn Alley residents and their insistence on scruff?

Despite her hope that Simon would scamper off with his tail between his legs, he stayed right beside her, his smirk becoming more prominent. Both of the men asked her, in their own way, what she was doing here, but she merely raised her eyebrows as Borgin appeared with the device he’d promised.

“Here it is, Miss Reid. A little dusty but in fine condition,” Borgin smiled, wiping the device off with his sleeve. “Gentlemen? Anything I can get you?” He glanced between the two standing on either side of Aileen, eager to make another transaction.

She picked up the small metal box and peered at it, turning it this way and that. A few strange symbols were etched on the sides and she found it odd that she didn’t recognize them.

“You just place the item inside, close the lid, wait about an hour, and it will dispel all previous enchantments cast on the item.”

“Hmmm,” Aileen was skeptical. It seemed too easy. “And if it doesn’t work?”

Borgin let out a chuckle, a greedy glint in his eye. “Well, I’d have a much easier time helping you if I knew what you needed to unlock.”

Aileen just looked at him. Three men, now, wanted to know what she was hiding. She was almost flattered.

“I’ll try it, but I’ll be back if it fails,” she informed him, leaving it at that. Perhaps later, she’d show Borgin the sundial, but she wasn’t about to parade it in front of her new acquaintance and her nosy brother- especially not her brother!

Finally, she ignored Simon and turned towards Cin to address his earlier question. “Remember when I told you I was going to Egypt?” Aileen waited a beat. She couldn’t really blame him if he’d forgotten. “I had to leave early…” her tone took on a slight edge. “But I was able to bring back a few things with me from the excavation. My only issue is that the items are quite stubborn. Old magic,” she explained, failing to mention that the magic had already killed off a few of her crewmates and was the reason she was forced to come home. If they didn’t already know, she wasn’t about to enlighten them. Simon would become insufferably smug and she didn’t need to see that.

Unlike the rest of the Reid clan, Simon was not the least bit embarrassed by his new chosen profession. In fact, he would have answered the stranger who seemed to be nosing about his info while he spoke with his sister. Not like this was a true family moment, the two despised one another they only came into one anothers live's begrudgingly. This interaction Simon would definitely blame himself for, considering he was the intruder. Not that he gave two sickles how Aileen felt about him there, he never really did before why start now?

There might have been a time when he was younger that Simon had wanted the attention or affection of his family members. That time was long since over. Simon had been completely lifted out of the family when he lost his job and was considered bad to have about. Now he didn't care what any of them thought of him. In fact he stole as many objects from their former family dwelling that he could to survive those first few years of being cut off.

"Suppose she felt it was her duty to inform you rather than myself." Simon smiled darkly at Aileen who barely acknowledged his existence other than giving him her usual sharp barbs of commentary here and there. "Just working to give the Reid's a better name, next time my name is in the paper I will make sure to tell everyone how my beloved sister Aileen was the inspiration for my fight..." Looking at her with a growing smirk he hoped that would scare the living daylights out of her. To think Simon mentioning her name in an article about the rights of beasts, she would go ballistic.

The two seemed to be sharing pleasantries which made Simon a little nauseous, "I really must be going... fight the good fight and all that. As always a pleasure to see you Aileen," with a curt acknowledgment to the guy cozying-up to his sister Simon walked towards the exit and left the shop hoping to get the stink of that get together off him.

If he wanted to know what his sister was up to he could come back and talk to Borgin about it at length. There was no need to stick around and hide the need to vomit. A breeze blew him back a step when he exited the shop. It was nice still for the most part, Simon tried to figure how to kill time until his next task. Spying a pretty witch heading towards Diagon Alley he jogged a little to catch up with her. The man was seconds from letting out a wolf whistle before he thought better of it. Thoughts of his unpleasant sister now miles from his mind.

Werewolf rights?  He was working with the Ministry for werewolf rights.  When Cinaed's gaze left Aileen and settled on her brother, all traces of the charming, amused grin had slid from his face, replaced by a dark, disbelieving scowl.  How was it that he could stand here without the liberty to sleep where he wanted or go for longer than a few days without the Ministry telling him how wrong he was or even carry a wand while folks were sitting around in cushy Ministry offices granting miserable halfbreeds with equal rights?  His scowl darkened as Simon seemed to object to his sister beating him to a reply. 

"Is this an interest you have personal interest in?"  Cinaed asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the short fellow more closely.  Had Cinaed overlooked any obvious signs during his initial assessment?  Scars or - was he expecting some stray forgotten whiskers?  It wouldn't surprise him if he hadn't noticed.  He had been far more interested in the bloke's sister, after all. 

Cinaed shook his head but smirked slightly and shook his head.  "How are donations at the holiday times?" Cinaed asked, smugly.  "Pathetic," he concluded, despite the fact that neither had asked his opinion.  Of course, he had no clue what it was that Aileen did but, if one were to guess from her reaction, it seemed unlikely she did much for halfbreed rights.

He turned his attention back to the grin growing on the woman's face, his own charming smile returning.  He watched her as Borgin returned to the front of the store, bearing a distinctive box in his hands.  The conversation between the store owner and Aileen did little to dampen Cinaed's curiosity.  When Borgin turned to him, looking for more business, Cinaed turned towards the older fellow. 

"I'm still interested in that piece you showed me a while back but, I'm afraid, given my current living arrangements, I'll have to pass for now.  If you catch my drift.  But, if you still have it when they cut me loose, I'll give you half again on the asking price."  There wasn't much fun one could have with Borgin and Burkes' wares at Bridge Houses and getting caught with one just bought one more time in those cages.

Barely noticing that Simon had taken his leave, Cinaed turned his attention back to Aileen's transaction, his curiosity only growing with the brief and vague explanation.  However, he recognized the signs of discretion though it wasn't quite clear whether it was on account of him, Borgin, her brother or the combination of them all.  Going out on a whim, he gave a shot at getting lucky and more information.  "Whenever you're done here, if you aren't otherwise obligated, you could tell me a little more.  Over drinks."

Aileen was not amused. She looked at her brother for the first time since he’d arrived and gave him a good, long glare. That was all the reaction she would give him and even that was probably too much. He knew just how to push her buttons, so that the mere mention of her name in connection with his little werewolf cause made her very angry.

Cináed suddenly seemed suspicious of Simon, studying him intently and then dismissing his job as pathetic. Aileen raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She realized, logically, that Simon was better off with a solid job at the Ministry than he was struggling to survive. That didn’t mean she liked what he chose to do, however. Flaunting his werewolf status instead of hiding it? That was something she could not understand or accept.

She nodded stiffly as her brother turned to leave. Aileen waited until the shop door banged shut before she allowed herself to relax a little. Giving an imperceptible shake of her head, she paid Borgin for the item, who seemed entirely too gleeful when the galleons jingled into his hand. Aileen took that moment to remind him that she would be back expecting some kind of refund if the purchase didn’t work out. His grin dimmed a little.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she told Borgin wryly, widening her eyes in mock innocence before turning towards Cináed. She’d been so busy brooding over her brother and worrying about getting the sundial to open that she hadn’t expected him to ask her out just then. A flicker of surprise crossed her features but then she paused, considering. Though his name sounded familiar, she didn’t know much about him save the two instances he’d approached her. He definitely wasn’t her usual type. Yet he seemed charming, confident, and had certainly been helpful at Crinchley’s. Perhaps he could help her with her most recent dilemma (or number of them). Trusting him, however, would take time.

“So you have an interest in Ancient Egyptian artifacts?” She said teasingly, nodding a goodbye to Borgin. “I have time for a drink or two. You’ll have to lead the way, though” she smiled. “The only other place I know of around here is Crinchley’s,” she raised her eyebrows, indicating the likelihood that she’d go back unless absolutely necessary.

Aileen did know the general layout of Knockturn Alley and had passed by plenty of other shops, but she was interested in seeing where he would want to go. Considering where she was, it was unusual and probably risky to agree to have a drink with someone she’d only met a few times, and Aileen questioned her sanity for a moment. However, if he had information that could help her, she really couldn’t pass that up.

The lack of a distinct answer was not lost on Cinaed and his eyebrows lifted slightly as he considered his options.  Had the question just not occurred to her or had she, really, tried to dodge the question.  He was, undoubtedly, curious about this woman's brother but to allow the half-breed or, at least, half-breed lover to ruin his chances with his sister wasn't quite in Cinaed's plans.  Perhaps, later, the could broach the subject again.  With a few drinks, the answer might be more forthcoming. 

With that thought in mind, Cinaed chose to bide his time.  He was just grateful that the meddlesome little prat was out of their hair. 

Turning towards Borgin, Cinaed chuckled.  "Oh come now, my friend.  You must be used to people not trusting you by now," Cinaed offered, with a nod to Aileen.  The man made his living off of swindling people - it was natural the distrust would follow.  But, he'd turned his attention back to Aileen just in time to notice, with a broad, sly grin, the surprise that flickered across the woman's face.  The surprise in her features was, probably, quite warranted.  Chances were, most women of her ... nature ... probably didn't plan on lingering much in Knockturn let alone getting stalked by an intrigued suitor. 

He'd expected a polite (or even not so polite) rejection but, to his surprise, she seemed to offer up a follow up interview question.  Ancient Egyptian artifacts?  "I've never been known to pass up on a mystery.  Though, I have to admit, I don't know that much.  My education got a little ... interrupted."  Was it wise to confess his shady past so quickly?  But, then, it wasn't like it wasn't that obvious.  As soon as she discovered the distinct absence of a wand, it'd be pretty obvious.  And, if she was anywhere near his year in Hogwarts, she may know him as the one who spent his seventh year in Azkaban.

"Oh no.  Crinchley's would hardly be the place I'd recommend.  I'm afraid she'd be jealous.  But, despite it's dusty appearance, there are quite a few unique jewels along Knockturn.  I could give you the grand two knut tour.  Of course, it'll take more humility than I might possess to claim there's any place better than my own pub.  But, if you've never seen the true flavor of Knockturn, there's no better way then with a resident local."  Certainly, for the likes of her, venturing into the depths of Knockturn was far better with a local than on her own.  "And there may be others who have the answers you're looking for." 

He led the way towards the door and held it open for her. 

She tried to mask her disappointment when he admitted that he didn’t know much about Egyptian artifacts, and then gave him a curious glance. Interrupted education? It was hard to tell the man’s age and she thought he looked to be in his early thirties, like her, but she could be wrong. Simon hadn’t shown any sign of recognizing him either, though the Battle of Hogwarts had interrupted his education, while she’d been off in the Netherlands studying with Arvid and keeping a nice, cushy distance from the war. The disadvantage being that occasionally, a name or face from those troubled times simply slipped under her radar.

“Interrupted?” She wondered aloud, tilting her head. “My oh-so-charming brother was at school during the Battle of Hogwarts. His sixth year, I believe. I’d already graduated and was off traveling, like usual.”

Aileen raised her eyebrows, surprised but somewhat reassured when he mentioned he owned his own pub. So he at least worked for a living. Perhaps it was better that Simon hadn’t seemed to recognize him, considering the type of people he must have spent time with when he lived here. Yes, she realized the irony that she was more suspicious of her little brother than of an acquaintance.

“Your own pub. Now that, I have to see,” she smiled, nodding her thanks as he held the door open and she stepped out of the shop. “Have you lived here long?” She asked him, leaving off the bit that she really wanted to ask: why. Why anyone would choose to live in Knockturn Alley was beyond her, unless they could afford no better, though she doubted that was the case with Cináed. She supposed it did have its benefits if one resorted to less than legal means to get things done. Still, the charm was hard to find buried underneath crumbling roofs, dusty windows, and Crinchley’s toothless grin.

As they walked, Aileen reflected that she could have asked her brother for help- her other brother, Trevor. He projected a perfect image with his high-ranking job, wife and kids, and contributions to pureblood society, and she’d known for a while that he had some lucrative dealings on the side. However, if she had to hear one more of his condescending lectures about the folly of ‘digging around in the dirt’, she might have to hex him. Aileen would rather figure things out on her own. She’d rather take a risk and see if Cin knew anyone more helpful.

They'd reached that point in the conversation.  The point when Cinaed had to decide if, indeed, being honest was the best policy.  It was, potentially, a loose-loose situation but that seemed a common trend in Cinaed's dating scene.  Did he risk the truth spoiling his fun or did he risk getting accused of lying in the event there was a future? 

But, as Cinaed stepped quietly into the dusty path of of Knockturn Alley, his mine came to the conclusion it usually did in such situations.  Even if he lied, it was unlikely anyone would stick around him for long if they would have trouble with his ex-Azzie status.  And, there was more risk of some weak, goody-two-shoes chick freaking and making some complaint with the Ministry if they got scared because they hadn't recognized the signs.  And, the impatient side of him would much rather not waste his time.  If she'd care, might as well be rid of her sooner rather than later. 

"He was in his sixth year?  What house?"  Cinaed asked, curiously.  Cinaed hadn't recognized him but that would have put the shrimp in his year.  And, that put this woman a few years ahead of him.  "I was at the end of my sixth year in Slytherin when that battle broke out.  And, chose sides and joined the fight.  Hogwarts didn't approve of the choice and officially expelled me before I'd officially started my time."  Being graduated and off traveling was far from the usual in his world.  And, now was usually the time when the other decided whether the news was unsettling, intriguing or simply placed him as inferior. 

"Was it Egypt that you'd traveled off to or is that a recent curiosity?"  He vaguely remembered something about treasures and curses and the sort during Defense Against the Dark Arts classes but those memories were faded and cloudy at best.  And, while he was pushing his luck, "and, I noticed neither of you answered the question.  Your brother - is his interest in werewolves personal?" 

They passed a variety of strange characters as they made their way down the alley.  Many of them offered some form of verbal or non-verbal greeting to Cinaed as they passed.  On a few occasions one of the wizards made to move towards Cinaed, presumably to take advantage of the opportunity to conduct business during the few free hours between when most rose for the day and when Cinaed had to report to the Bridge House for count but, with a quick, pointed glance, they left him to his own. 

"Oh, it's hardly any place to write home about," Cinaed said with a laugh as they neared the foot of Knockturn Alley and the peeling and slightly warped door leading to the Black Chimaera.  "But, it's a place to live and pays the bills.  And, there's live music on the weekends."  And, for those with a questionable past, it lacked the pretentious judgment of the Leaky Cauldron and other more 'respectable' businesses.  "Almost four years," he answered, shoving the door open and, again, holding it for her.  "I suppose in these parts, that's a fairly decent span of time."  Once inside, he set the jar of shimmering green-tinged chimera blood on the counter before shrugging off his cloak.  "Make yourself comfortable."

“He was in Slytherin, as was I,” she said, answering his question about what house Simon had been in. “Almost everyone in the Reid family has been put into Slytherin. There have been a few Ravenclaws here and there, one Hufflepuff even, but we don’t talk about him,” she half-joked, attempting to lighten the mood as she realized they broached some difficult subject matter. Indeed, he soon revealed that he’d picked the losing side of the Hogwarts battle and as a result, was expelled and served time. It was a lot to process at once. She faltered slightly in her steps, gave him a searching glance, and then simply nodded and continued on.

He’d revealed some startling news and Aileen’s mind jumped to conclusions, but at the moment she didn’t have time to dwell on them. It didn’t bother her perhaps as much as it should have that he’d fought alongside the Death Eaters during the last battle. She’d grown up with pureblood ideals, many of which were prejudiced. However, she’d avoided taking sides in the war and had even traveled to distance herself from it. Then and now she found it somewhat difficult to relate to those who had risked themselves to stand up for something- whatever side they were on. She wondered how much he still believed in what his younger self had fought for, but didn’t ask. Again, it didn’t seem like the right time.

She smiled a bit at his question. “Egypt is fairly recent. I was in the Netherlands studying ancient runes. I’m going to be teaching the subject at Hogwarts in the fall.” Aileen quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering how he’d take that. Most who first met her didn’t expect her to be a professor.

His next question took her very much by surprise. She hadn’t thought Simon’s job would pique so much curiosity and felt a trickle of unease. It was no secret that she couldn’t stand her brother. Still, did she really want him to be targeted because of something she’d said? She looked at Cináed, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible, her voice calm. She could lie, but to Cin there might not be a significant difference between someone who was a werewolf and someone who fought for werewolf rights, anyway.

“Yes,” she answered after a pause. “His career as an Auror was… interrupted, after he was attacked,” she shrugged her shoulder with feigned indifference. “Now he’s back at the Ministry working for Miss Gertrudis. I can’t tell you what he did with all that time in-between jobs, because I don’t know,” she smirked. It couldn’t have been anything his Auror buddies would have liked. “I don’t see him if I can avoid it.”

Aileen hoped that answered all and any questions about Simon, so they could move on to more pleasant topics. As they strolled down the Alley they encountered many Knockturn residents, some of which made her glad she wasn’t alone. It was easy to see that Cináed commanded a lot of respect. She was reminded slightly of the corridors of Hogwarts, back when she’d caused some of the lesser students to run for cover and the more worthy ones to try and curry favor with her. She missed that, sometimes. Ironically, she’d soon be back at her old school in a position of authority, and even more ironic, she’d have to contend with Snark again. Aileen shoved that intrusive thought out of her mind and glanced at Cináed. “Popular, are we?” she drawled, as they passed yet another person who seemed eager to interrupt their walk.

The pub sign came into view and Aileen didn’t know whether to feel relieved or concerned. They were about as deep into Knockturn Alley as they could get, and if she’d known how far off from Diagon the pub was located, she may have declined Cináed’s offer. Aileen wasn’t about to show any outward hesitance, however. Cin held open the door for her again, so she thanked him and walked through, thoroughly surveying her surroundings as if she was discovering a long-forgotten tomb. As treasures went, there wasn’t much visible. The walls were plain and all the furnishings were simple, but at least the place looked relatively clean. It appeared that no one else was there. Perhaps the pub hadn’t opened yet this early in the afternoon.

“Four years,” she repeated, hanging up her cloak on a coat rack. “Did you start up the pub yourself, then, or did someone own it before you?” Aileen asked, curious.

The green liquid in the jar he set on the counter reflected the dim light filtering into the pub. She thought it best not to ask what it was for and took a seat on one of the stools, which wobbled slightly. Aileen skimmed the menu resting in the holder, smirking at the title ‘Wuss Drinks’, when suddenly there was a thumping noise.

Her eyes narrowed. Thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump. What the-

The floor boards creaked and then a dog appeared from behind the bar, lumbering towards her with its tongue lolling out. Her eyebrows shot up, watching as the mastiff’s tail whacked against the legs of the stools, causing them to totter. Aileen shot an amused glance at Cin, assuming the creature was his, or that he at least was acquainted with it. The amused look vanished from her face when she felt a slobbery tongue graze her hand. Startled, Aileen straightened, drew her hand away and cleared her throat lightly, glancing at Cin again with a somewhat beseeching expression. She couldn’t help it. She was more of a cat person.

"Really?"  Cinaed breathed, pausing and looking over his shoulder as if half-expecting to see the little shrimp of a man still standing there in a manner that would quench Cinaed's current curiosity.  "Slytherin?"  Who would've thought it?  It felt like some strange tendril of a very different and distant past memory.  "So, me and that little man were dormmates once upon a time?"  In other words, Cinaed was trying to get up close and personal with the big sister of a formal roommate.  What a small world.  "What'd you say his name was, again?"  Did Cinaed recognize the bloke?

With an amused chuckle, he turned back but, after a few steps, their progress was, again, interrupted when Aileen stopped and turned towards him.  The reaction was to be expected.  It was what followed - whatever conclusion the woman came to that was unpredictable.  He merely watched her with a curious, lifted eyebrow as she seemed to study him.  She clearly seemed to be looking for something - some sort of verification or clarification.  Perhaps some sort of explanation but, for whatever reason, the question or inquiry remained hidden. 

"A Hogwarts Professor?"  Cinaed asked, his voice betraying the delighted surprise and curiosity at the news.  What wasn't portrayed in his tone, however, was the first hint of doubt about his chances with this woman.  She was attractive, no doubt, and, quite clearly, not the usual Knockturn Alley denizen.  But, her repeated presence in the Alley had certainly piqued his intrigue and curiosity.  But - a professor.  An ancient runes professor.  Was he not pitching it bit far out of his league here? 

Given her demeanor and reluctance to answer questions in front of her brother and Borgin, Cinaed figured this whole topic of Egypt would be best revisited when they were in a more private setting.  Instead, he focused on bit of information about the woman's chose employment. 

Cinaed grinned and shrugged his shoulders as he asked, casually, though with a certain probing curiosity.  "So, I presume like most Professors I remember, you must have those impossibly high expectations.  I did fairly well in those classes where I could wave my wand and do stuff but ... naw ... didn't even bother trying with Runes.  It would have gotten the better of me."  A decision he, sometimes, regretted now.  Had he known he would be forced to life life wandless, he probably would have put more effort into the classes that focused on wandless forms of magic and protection.  Too late for that now. 

But, as the information kept coming, Cinaed couldn't resist the slightly facetious chuckle.  Oh, oh, oh, Cinaed.   You sure do know how to pick them.  Daily Prophet reporters.  Hogwarts Professors with former auror werewolf brothers.  "A former auror werewolf," he spat, the disgust at the thought heavy in his voice.  "And, they let him work at the Ministry.  How typical of them."  This was exactly the type of thing that drove Cinaed crazy.  To think - here he was, living on the fringes of society - forced to live as a bloody muggle and this half-breed beast of a broken down Auror was working in the Ministry.  "At least your priorities are in the right place," he concluded. 

"It's not much, I know," Cinaed concluded for her, alleviating Aileen of having to offer an assessment of the pub as she surveyed it closely.  "But, it's mine.  Which is more than most of my lot can claim."  His lot being his fellow - usually jobless - ex-Azzies.  "Once upon a time I hear it had been some old witch's love potion shop.  The old get-your-husband-never-to-cheat type potions.  But, she'd died in a potions-fueled fire years before I bought the place."

She was regarding the menu - definitely a positive sign.  Cinaed stepped up next to her, regarding the menu in her hands over her shoulder.  "Of course, if you fancy anything not on the menu, I could be talked into accommodating custom orders," he offered, at first only sparing the large dog a fleeting glance before turning his attention back to the woman. 

Seamus was, not surprisingly, seeking attention from Aileen - not unlike Cinaed himself though in a much more forward manner.  He merely grinned back at Aileen's amused grin and shrugged his shoulders.  "Seamus!" he scolded the dog when she looked at him beseechingly, though he hadn't succeeded in wiping all the amusement from his own face.  "You worthless mutt - you really can just shoo him a way." 

Reluctantly, Cinaed moved away from Aileen and towards the rug in front of the fire.  "Come on, Seamus, leave her alone."  Seamus dipped his head down slightly, peering at Cinaed's pantomimed attempts to lure the dog away from Aileen through the bars of stool legs.  After several slow blinks, the dog pointedly ignored Cinaed's invitation and slid down to the floor at the base of the stools.  "Sorry about him," Cinaed offered, returning to the bar with a shrug.  "He's useless."